I came across your website, as I read more and more I was flooded with the emotions that caming crashing down on me twenty six years ago. I was only eight years old. My brother was 10, it was two weeks before his 11th birthday. I have longed to find a way to share my story without hurting my family. You see, my father and uncle were the drunk drivers on my aunts wedding night. I do not know the exact date, Ocotber 25 or 26th, due to the fact the family didn't want to scare my aunts wedding date.

As a typical wedding goes alcohol was served at the reception. Everyone was having a great time. I remember dancing with my brother who always made me laugh, he was my protector. My father and uncle decided to leave and trash my aunts house. My family loaded up into our Jeep Cherokee and my uncle into his camero. They were racing. My brother was sitting in between my twin sister and I in the middle bench seat, holding our hands. I can still hear my step mother screaming for my father to slow down. I remember being scared and my brother just holding tighter onto my hand. None of us were wearing seatbelts. My father and uncle went to take the same exit ramp and side-swiped each other, sending our vehicle into a vicious roll. Upon it stopping I was in the very back trying to see through a cloud of dirt and my uncle trying to help me out. He carried me to the grass wet with dew and laid me down. I could hear everyone yelling for my brother, the cops trying to restrain my father from getting up and finding him, my sister moaning in pain. I just wanted my brother. My grandparents arrived at the scence, to find out later they and the police were following the cars. My grandmother came to my side and held my hand, I heard a terrible scream come from my father, my grandmother telling me he was hurt badly. I asked about my brother, he's hurt was all that I was told. I remember looking up at the sky, it was crystal clear with a beautiful moon and a brilliant show stars. That was my peace in the worst time of my life.

It wasn't until two days later was I told that my brother had died. I was the only person realesed from the hospital that night, so it was my great-grandmother and the reverand accross the street who told me the news. I wanted to die with him.

My family not only had to live with the pain of loosing a loved one, but the pain and guilt along with responsibility. My father has never forgiven himself, and it took me many years to forgive him myself. My brother was my protector throught out life, he was the one that tucked me in at night after our mother left, that held me during scary dreams, that made me smile when I was said. My brother kept me going. Then my life was changed forever.

I don't have pictures of the accident, I was only 8. I have thought about obtaining them, but why? I can still see the damaged car, the managled bodies and the stars of that night, I just can't see my brother.

A. McClellan Kansas